Sophia's Suffering
by CarrotStix
Summary: Life at the prison has become a routine. Carl and Sophia eagerly await the coming of April 27th, their anniversary. But a mysterious sickness swarms through the prison, putting everyone in danger. What will happen to the young couple in the face of such threats? Second book in the "Sophia" series, sequel to Sophia's Return.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Welcome to the next book in the Sophia Series! I'm so sorry! I know I said this would be out a long time ago, and I feel bad, but it's finally here! I've been doing some pre-writing with the chapters, so I can stick to a schedule. Even if it takes me a long time to write a chapter, I'll still have one to upload! So without further ado, I present: Sophia's Suffering!**

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My eyes blinked open to the familiar sight of my cell, which was empty, like always. Carl usually woke up early to help his father with the farming. I, like any normal person, enjoyed my sleep and preferred to sleep in.

The calendar on my nightstand caught my eye as I pulled myself out of the bed. I smiled. Today was the 23rd of April. Carl and I had been counting days until our anniversary, which was on the 27th. I began stripping off my clothes, quickly replacing them with cleaner ones. Once I had finished getting dressed, I stepped out in the hallway and made my way outside to find Carl.

The sun was bright and friendly when I stepped out the door, closing my eyes as I paused to enjoy the warmth of the rays on my face for a moment. If you blocked out the sound of walkers banging against the fence, it was easy to pretend things were normal.

When I opened my eyes again, they were drawn to the bottom of the hill, where Carl was standing, staring at the crops

"Hey!" I called out, grabbing his attention. He turned around, shielding his eyes as he focused his gaze on me. A small grin tugged up the corners of his mouth as he noticed me jogging down the hill to meet him. When I reached the bottom, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder as I stood on my toes to kiss him cheek. He had grown taller in the past year, overtaking me by four inches.

"Good morning," he said, his grin widening at the gesture. I turned my attention to the small farm, where all the vegetables were beginning to shoot up.

"It'll be nice to have some produce here," I remarked. "I haven't any fresh vegetables in two years. What kinds of veggies are growing?"

"Cabbage, lettuce," he answered. "Y'know, stuff like that."

"Did you plant any eggplants?" I asked. When Carl didn't answer, I looked up to see him staring at me, a look of disgust on his face.

"You like eggplants?"

"Yeah, don't you?"

"No way! They're gross!"

"How can you not like eggplants?" I asked. "They're great!"

"They taste disgusting!" he protested. "Besides, what kind of vegetable is purple? It's unnatural."

"Oh, so now you're discriminating?" I teased, giving him a playful shove. He rolled his eyes in response, but smiled nonetheless.

"I'm just saying vegetables shouldn't be purple," he said, "Wouldn't you think it's weird if you met a blue person?"

"So you hate Avatar, too?" I taunted, putting a hand on my hip. "Wow, Carl. What kind of person are you?" He chuckled and opened his mouth to respond, before a familiar voice got our attention.

"Hey lovebirds!" Patrick shouted, his voice carrying down to us from the top of the hill. A lighthearted smirk lit up his face as he trotted down the path to where we were standing. His smug expression relaxed as he pointed to the fence, where Lizzie, Mika, Luke and molly had gathered, and were now motioning to the walkers and talking rapidly.

"Do you know what they're doing over there?" Patrick asked.

"I don't know," Carl answered with a shrug. "We may as well find out, though."

Carl took my hand as our trio walked over to the kids. As we approached, we were able to hear the voices, calling out names. It took us a moment to realize they were naming the walkers. We stopped right behind them, and waited for a second. When none of them noticed us, Patrick cleared his throat, grabbing their attention.

"What are you doing?" Patrick questioned.

"Naming the walkers," Mika answered simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I was surprised to see her without her camera for once. The young girl usually took her Polaroid everywhere with her.

Carl stiffened at her answer, his gaze darkening slightly. "You shouldn't name them."

"Why not?" Lizzie challenged, scowling. "That once has a name tag, so why shouldn't the other ones have names?"

"They had names when they were alive," he said. "They're dead now."

"No, they're not," she protested. "They're just different."

"How can you say that?" he asked. "Okay, they don't talk. They don't think. They eat people. They kill people."

"People kill people," she argued, "They still have names."

"Have you seen what happens?" Carl asked, "Have you seen someone die like that?"

Lizzie glared. "Yeah. I have."

"They're not people and they're not pets." Carl stated, a firm and final note in his voice. "Don't name them."

Lizzie huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and stalked off, followed by Luke and Molly. Mika smiled at me one last time before scrambling after her sister and their friends.

Once they had left, I turned to Carl, who still had a scowl on his face. "Are you okay?" I asked, squeezing his hand. A silence dragged on between us Patrick coughed, snapping Carl from his thoughts.

"I'm fine," he said, pulling me into a reassuring hug. "I'm just worried. They might not have what it takes to make it in this world."

I nodded, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head on his shoulder. Lizzie and Mika hadn't seen as much as most of the people here had. In the very beginning of the outbreak, they had watched their mother die and reanimate. Soon after that, they ended up taking refuge in a grocery store until the prison group found them and took them in, along with the rest of the people staying there. They hadn't been outside much, and as a result, they were much more sheltered than the rest of us.

"I think they just want to shut it out," I reasoned. "Pretend it isn't happening. They're still young. They haven't seen what we've seen. They want to pretend everything's okay, while they still can."

Carl paused, like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just nodded, allowing another long stretch of silence to pass between us as we stood by the fence.

"Do you think we could still have that chance?" I asked, a sudden rush of foolish hope surging through me.

"No," he whispered, pulling me closer as he rested his cheek on my head. "Not anymore."

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**It feels nice to finally get this out. It's been hanging over my head for a while, making me feel bad, but it's done now! I'm not going to try and stick to an exact updating schedule, but check back every few days or so. I'll try to post them within a week or so, but I can't make any promises. I'm trying to write better, longer chapters, so I'll be taking longer than before.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Whoo! We're back with another chapter! Enjoy!**

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As the night approached, I was sitting on my bed, reading one of my favorite books. I must have read it at least twelve times, but my reading material was limited. It wasn't like I could just get up and go to the bookstore. I was close to finishing it again when a cough from the doorway caught my attention. I looked up to see Patrick standing in my doorway.

"Is Carl here?" he asked, another round of coughing immediately following his question.

"No," I answered, shaking my head. "He's talking to his dad. Are you okay? You sound pretty bad."

"I'm fine," he assured me, before stumbling off, his coughing echoing through the hallway. I stared at the spot where he was standing for a moment, before turning back to my book, trying to push the nagging worry out of my mind. Patrick probably had springtime allergies. He seemed like that type. Whatever it was, I hoped it wasn't contagious. We had enough problems as it was.

I finished the book and set it aside, wondering what to do next. The thought of reading it again, right after finishing it, just didn't appeal to me. As I looked over my small reading supply, I realized none of the books I had particularly appealed to me. Instead, my gaze was drawn to the dusty red leather journal resting on the nightstand. Carl had given it to me last year. With a fond smile, I picked it up and brushed off the thin layer of dust that covered it, along with the pencil next to it. I was sketching a flower when Carl walked in, carrying a small stack of comic books.

"Patrick was looking for you," I informed him, looking up from the journal that rested on my bed to see him set the pile on the nightstand.

"I know," he said, lying down next to me and wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I leaned into him, and he rested his cheek on the top of my head. "He wanted to know if I had the 17th issue of Invincible, but I told him I didn't."

"Do you?" I asked. I could feel him grin as he answered.

"Of course I do," he said, "I have the first thirty of them."

"You know, you can be a jerk sometimes," I teased, "Patrick's your friend."

"I didn't want to give him my comic with him coughing like that," he said, "But it's not like I'm going to tell him that, so I simply told him I didn't have it. Problem solved. Besides, I'm still waiting for him to give back the Batman comic I lent him."

I rolled my eyes. "I swear, you act like those comics are your babies," I mumbled playfully. "You love those comics more than me."

Carl chuckled. "You know I love you," he said.

Despite the fact that I had heard him say it so many times before, I couldn't help the smile that appeared on my face, or the swell of happiness in my chest. "Yeah," I replied, "I know you do."

We sat there in contented silence for a while, until I could feel the nagging worry creep back into my mind. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Patrick's cough seemed pretty bad," I said, "I'm a little worried. He sounded awful."

"It was a pretty nasty cough," he agreed. "But I'm sure he'll be fine. He survived the zombie apocalypse. I'm sure he'll be strong enough to survive a simple cold."

"I hope that's all it is," I muttered, "I don't know how we'd deal with it if it isn't."

"Don't worry," he assured me, "You'll be fine. I'll protect you, I promise."

"You say that a lot," I said, a smile creeping back on to my face.

"I mean it," he replied, his voice warm and sincere. "I'd never let anything happen to you."

The smile on my face grew wider, and I closed my journal, putting it back on its place on the nightstand, along with the pencil. I was beginning to feel pretty tired, but I ignored the feeling.

"Hey, Carl?" I asked, trying not to yawn, "Do you think things will ever get better?"

He paused for a moment, clearly caught off guard. I was usually pretty grounded to reality, so this wasn't a normal question for me.

"Depends," he said, "What's your definition of better?"

"I don't know," I murmured, thinking, "Not…so…bad?"

He considered it for a moment. "I don't know," he admitted. "I think that one day, there might not be as many out there, but I don't know if it'll ever end."

I nodded. "I guess that's the best we can hope for," I agreed. "I just wish things we calm down. I want to be able to live without being afraid of dying."

I looked up at his face to see him smiling at me. He pressed his lips to my forehead.

"Don't worry," he murmured, his lips brushing against my skin, "Things will get better, in some way, shape, or form. I promise."

"You make a lot of promises, Mr. Grimes," I teased, snuggling closer to him.

Carl laughed softly. "I know," he said, his voice light. "And I intend to keep each and every one of them."

"I hope so," I murmured, getting drowsier by the second. The warmth of his body was pulling me towards the soft blanket of sleep, but I struggled to keep myself awake. I loved moments like this, and I didn't want to ruin it by falling asleep. We were silent for a moment, before I spoke again.

"I love you, Carl," I mumbled, yawning. Carl chuckled again.

"I love you too, Sophia," he whispered, pressing another soft kiss to my forehead, "Now go to sleep. You're exhausted."

I nodded, closing my eyes. I allowed sleep to overcome me as I huddled closer to Carl, relishing the warmth of the embrace. Little did I know, it would be the happiest night of my life for a long time.

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**Alright, that wraps up chapter two! I'd like to ask you guys a question. I'm making an official playlist for this series, and I want to know what songs you guys think fit Sophia and Carl. Leave it in the review section, and I'll add it if I like it.**


	3. Chapter 3

Distant screams filled my ears as I shot up in bed. Beside me, Carl was alert as well.

"What's going on?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"I don't know," Carl said, getting up from his spot beside me. "But I'm going to find out."

A sudden panic welled up inside me at the thought of him going in there without a gun. I reached out and grabbed his wrist as he reached for his knife on the nightstand.

"Please don't go," I pleaded. "You don't even have your gun. Please don't leave me."

Carl stared at me, assessing the fear in my eyes. I released his wrist and his hand dropped back to his side. He sat back down on the bed and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, allowing me to curl against his side. I did so gratefully, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried to block out the echoing sounds of screaming.

When the screams began to taper off, I opened my eyes and wiped the tears off of my face. I looked up to see Carl staring at the wall, a blank look on his face.

"Patrick," he said. "He was sick and he died. Then he turned and attacked Cell Block D."

"No," I mumbled. "Not Patrick. There must be some other way, some other reason that-"

"There is no other way!" Carl snapped angrily, causing me to flinch away. He put his head in his hands and moaned softly. After a moment of hesitation, I leaned in and began rubbing circles on his back.

"I'm sorry about Patrick," I murmured.

"S'okay," he replied, his voice muffled by his hands. After a moment, he picked his head back up and turned to me. "You think we should go check on everything over there?"

I nodded, the memory of screaming still ringing in my ears. Carl grabbed his knife with one hand took my mine with the other as we started walking to the neighboring cell block.

What I saw when we got there sickened me. Bodies littered the ground; guts were splattered around the mangled corpses. If that wasn't horrific enough, there was a trail of bloody foot prints leading from Patrick's cell to the other end of the cell block. My grip on Carl's hand tightened as we surveyed the grisly scene. A loud sob began to echo through the hallway, one that I immediately recognized as Mika's. Dragging Carl along with me, I ascended the stairs, following Mika's cries to the furthest room.

In there, we found Lizzie, who was holding her Mike as she cried into her chest. Unlike her sister, Lizzie stared at the bed, a mixture of shock and fear in her eyes. I followed her gaze to see their father lying on the bed. His eyes were wide and his breathing was labored. He had two bites; one on his arm and one on his neck. Carl and I exchanged glances, and he let go of my hand to walk over to the bed. I moved over to the girls and wrapped m arms around both of them.

"Don't look," I murmured. Lizzie did as I told and squeezed her eyes shut. I turned back to see Carl whisper something to the eldest Samuel. In response, he said something back. I couldn't hear what either said, but Carl just nodded, and closed his eyes as he plunged the knife into the older man's neck, ending his misery.

For a while, Carl just sat there while I held the two sisters, trying to hold in my own tears. Eventually, Carl and I left so the two sisters could grieve in peace.

That night, I was lying in bed, unable to sleep. All of the safety and security I felt here at the prison was long gone. For the first night in months, the door to my cell was closed, and now, I was too afraid to sleep.

"Carl?" I whispered, my voice breaking the silence of the night. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah," he said. "I can't sleep."

"Neither can I," I murmured. "I just can't seem to feel safe anymore."

The mattress above me creaked as Carl rolled over, and his face appeared over the edge of the bed, his dark brown locks hanging off of his head. If not for the tragic event of the day, I would have been laughing.

"I'll protect you," he promised, taking one hand off of the bed frame to reach out and grab one of mine. "No matter what. I'll always make sure you're safe. I love you."

"I love you, too." I murmured, a tiny smile appearing on my face. Not too long after that, I fell asleep.

And immediately wished I hadn't.

_Branches tore at my clothes and whipped at my face, leaving behind small scratches. I could hear groaning behind me. Only one thought was in my head; only one name on my lips._

"_Carl!" I cried, my voice echoing off the forest trees. "Carl! Carl, where are you?"_

_No matter how much I called his name, I didn't hear a response. Instead, my words were met with more groaning. Green and brown rushed past me as my feet carried my through the thick foliage. My clothes were ripped and ragged, and my face was scratched up from the whipping of the branches, but I didn't stop._

"_Carl!"_

"_Sophia!"_

_The voice caused me to freeze for a moment, before I picked up the pace. I continued to call his name as the sound of him calling mine slowly got louder. The forest was still grabbing at me, but I didn't care anymore. The only thing that mattered was the voice calling my name._

_Until it stopped._

_My legs automatically started moving faster, pulling me through the dense woods, until I found myself on the edge of a meadow. There, in the middle of clearing, was Carl. I would have been relieved._

_Except for the fact that he was lying there in a pool of his own blood._

_I rushed forward, falling to my knees next to his body. The scarlet liquid from a bullet hole in his side began to seep into the denim of my jeans, but I didn't care._

"_Sophia…" he croaked._

"_Shh," I murmured, as I gathered his body into my lap. "Don't talk. You need your strength. You'll make it out of this."_

"_I love you…" he groaned._

"_Carl, don't you die on me!" I said, the pitch of my voice rising. "I need you Carl! You can't leave me like this, not yet!"_

_Before he could say anything, his eyes closed, and his head fell backwards. Panic rushed through me as I shook his body gently._

"_No, no, no," I moaned, my voice steadily getting louder. "No, no, no."_

_Carl was dead._


	4. Chapter 4

Oh my god, I am so sorry! I've been grounded, and testing, and trying to not fail my Sceince class so I can keep my position in my writing class. I feel really bad. I take forever to post a sequel, and then I take forever to update it. Ugh.

But, I'm back! Please excuse any writing errors. I'm writing part of this on my iPhone. :P

CircleIntheSand: While I can assure that Sophia isn't going to die quite yet, due to the fact that I do have future books planned, I can not make any promises about Carl.

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"Sophia!"

I shot up in bed, almost bumping foreheads with Carl, who had been standing over me and shaking my shoulders in an attempt to get me to wake up. Sweat rolled off of my forehead and my breathing was heavy as I tried to calm myself. I had been having dreams like this for weeks now, and every time, it scared me just as much as it had the night before. I rubbed a hand over my eye as I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding. The dreams varied. Sometimes it was Carl dying, sometimes it was the prison being attacked. They were alays awful, but this has been one of the worst. Even now, after waking up, it was like I could still feel his blood on my hands, staining them a deep scarlet.

Carl reached and put a hand on my shoulder, a comforting gesture. I gave him a weak smile in return, thanking him silently.

"I'm okay," I murmured, running a hand through my tangled blonde locks, damp with sweat. He opened his mouth to respond when the door to the cell opened and Daryl stepped in, holding up his loaded crossbow.

"Are you guys okay?" he asked, only lowering his weapon by a fraction of an inch.

"We're fine," I assured him. "Nightmares." Daryl's face softened as he looked at me. He turned to walk away when a sound rang out from the hallway, causing all of us to freeze.

Coughing.

In a flash, Daryl was out of the cell and interrogating the person who was coughing. Carl sank down onto the bed next to me with a sigh as panic welled up in me. Scenarios raced through my head, making me think of all the awful things that could happen, most revolving around death.

_Stop it_, I mentally chided myself. I was overreacting, yet again. It was springtime, after all. It could be anything, like allergies. Still, I found myself unable to believe that it was simply allergies. After all, Patrick was dead. If he had caught some mysterious sickness, anybody else could have easily caught it as well, considering the close quarters we were living in. We were practically sardines, packed together in a tin canister.

Carl, however, was sitting on the bed with a blank stare on his face, similar to the one he had worn yesterday morning when the attack happened. I reached out and put a hand in his arm, and he moaned as he put his head in his hands. Whatever small hope I had of falling back asleep tonight had vanished.

And I was right. Six and a half hours later, I was standing outside of my cell, holding tightly to Carl's hand as we waited. Rick had called everybody to a meeting in Cell Block C. Carl and I stood in the back of the crowd, listening to them murmuring softly amongst themselves. All of their whispers were silenced when Rick made his way to the small center of the crowd.

"Good morning," he said, addressing the crowd with a cheerful greeting and a solemn expression that didn't quite seme to match. "I'm sure you all know what happened to Patrick. We have reason to believe that the sickness that killed him is not gone. If you have it, or believe anyone else may, please inform Dr. S. We are asking that anyone who has the sickness move themselves to Cell Block A, to prevent further spread of this disease."

Without saying anothet word, Rick walked away, leaving the group to began whispering again, more animated than before. He was almost out of my sight when he turned and motioned to Carl, who let go of my hand and stepped over to his father. I watched as they talked, and then Rick handed Carl something I couldn't see.

Carl nodded once and walked off. As he walked past me and into the cell, I saw what Rick had given Carl. Around his waist was a holster, and in that holster was Carl's Beretta, the one he had taken away about a year ago. The sight did not reassure me in any way. Instead, it only added to my worry. If Rick had given Carl his gun back, then something was wrong.

Inside the cell, Carl was rushing around, throwing clothes and other things into a small orange duffle bag. I took a step forward into the cell and leaned against the door frame, folding my arms across my chest.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Packing," he answered, not even pausing to look and me. "My father is moving anyone who has a weaker resistance to the illness into one of the guard's offices, and he wants me to protect them."

"So why are you packing my clothes, too?"

"Because you're coming with me.

I took a step forward and placed a hand on my hip. "Says who?"

Carl turned around and scowled. "I do."

I scowled back as I took yet another step forward. "When did you start making my decisions for me?" I demanded.

Carl sighed. "Look Sophia, we can talk about this later. We don't have time for this."

"Well, that's too bad, because we're going to talk about this now!" I shouted. "Because last time I checked, you were my boyfriend, not my father!"

"Look Sophia," he said, quickly losing his temper. "Just because you're mad I made this decision without you, doesn't mean it's not the right one."

"Fine," I hissed. I was silent for a few seconds more, before I said one of the cruelest things I ever could.

"Maybe you are my father."

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Ouch! That was harsh! Anyway, stay tuned.

Also, watch out for the Walking Dead Video Game fan fictions that I'll be publishing soon!


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm back, and I come bearing great news! I have regained inspiration, and the story will proceed normally from now on! Expect more from me from now on!**

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I stalked across the courtyard, a good fifteen feet behind Carl as I followed him, my sneakers slapping against the dull pavement with an angry sound that punctuated each and every one of my steps. My arms were folded over my chest as I sulked behind him. Instead of looking at him or the prison, my eyes were focused on the orange duffel bag hanging from one of his hands, something else I was annoyed about. Now, if I wanted my clothes, I was going to have to get them from the same bag he had put his in.

When he reached the large brick building that was apparently our destination, he stopped and waited, holding the door open for me when I approached. I muttered a "thank you" under my breath as I brushed past him, not even raising my head to look at him. I walked down the large hallway, until it split into two. Looking around, I noticed all of the doors were closed shut, except for the second one on the right, so I made my way towards that one. In there was Beth, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her back to the wall as she cradled Judith in her arms. She looked up as I walked in, giving me a soft smile as I passed. I gave her a light grin as I passed, but from the look on her face, she knew something was up.

Carl himself didn't enter the room. Instead, he threw the bag through the doorway and walked off, anger radiating off of him like heat from an oven as he pulled his gun from his holster and muttered something about guard duty. Beth shot me another look, raising one eyebrow as she pursed her lips. Had I not been in such a foul mood, I would have laughed at how silly she looked.

"Lover's spat?" she asked.

I nodded, diverting my eyes to the floor as I bit the inside of my cheek. Sensing my discomfort, Beth quickly changed the subject.

"Mika and Molly are probably on their way over here already," she said. "Along with my father, too."

"What about Lizzie and Luke?" I asked.

"They're sick," she said, holding Judith a little closer as she spoke, almost as if she was scared. She probably was, I realized. While I was sitting around sulking about my relationship problems, everybody else was fearing for the safety of themselves and their loved ones, Carl included.

"I suck," I groaned, resting my elbows on my knees and burying my face in my hands. Carl was just trying to look out for me, and I flipped out on him for caring. "I'm pretty much the worst girlfriend ever."

"Not even," Beth said, her voice soft and low. I lifted my head slightly, peering out to see her staring at the wall with a guilty look in her eyes. "When Daryl told me the Zack was dead, I didn't even cry until he had walked away. My boyfriend had just died, and I was too afraid of looking weak in front of others to even shed a single tear."

I didn't respond to her admission, choosing instead to get to my feet and walk away, across the room and to the door. "I'm going to go talk to Carl." I said. Beth said something in response, but I was already out the door, roaming through the hallways in my search for Carl.

When I found him, his back was against the wall with his hat pulled down as he fiddled with his gun, turning it over in his hands, brushing his hands over the smooth black metal.

"Hey," I murmured, folding my arms and leaning my side on the wall about four feet from him. If he had noticed my footsteps as I approached, he had certainly noticed me now. His head turned to look at me when I spoke, lifting upward so I could see his bright blue eyes peering back at me, gleaming with hurt. I mentally cringed, feeling another pang of regret for saying the things I did to him.

"Hey," he replied, his back straightening. He stared at me expectantly, and I realized he was waiting for me to speak first.

"I'm sorry for being so awful earlier," I said, my eyes focused on the ground by my feet. "You were just looking out for me, and I yelled at you, and said some really stupid thing that I didn't really mean. It was uncalled for, and I'm really sorry."

Carl's piercing blue eyes never wavered from my own brown ones as he moved towards me, slipping his gun into its holster and closing the distance between us. "It's okay," he replied. "I'm sorry I was so pushy; I could've been a lot nicer about it."

I wrapped my arms around his neck, closing my eyes and pressing my face into the crook of his shoulder. I could feel his arms wind around my middle, and I smiled. "I love you," I murmured.

"I love you, too," he mumbled back, pulling me tighter as he buried his face in my hair. We stayed like that for a while, until I heard the doors to the entrance open with a hiss, followed by faint sniffles and hushed sobs that brought me back to the harsh reality that we were standing here hugging in the middle of a prison administration building because many of our friends were inside, sick. No matter how hard I tried to forget it or escape, one fact remained the same. We weren't safe.

We'd never be safe.

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**This has been Chapter Five! See you guys later!**


	6. Chapter 6

**And here we are with Chapter Six! Hooray!**

* * *

I walked back to the room where everybody else was, leaving Carl to patrol the hallways as he went through to make sure the building was completely safe, even though Rick and Daryl had already checked. When I got there, Beth was bouncing Judith as she tried to console Mika, who was brushing away the tears that just kept coming, and Molly, who was just flat-out sobbing.

"Hey guys," I murmured, catching the attention of the two blondes, who looked up as I entered. Molly, however, acknowledged my greeting with a sniffle. I made my way over and sat next to the young girl, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, not knowing what else to do. We sat there for over an hour, holding each other as we all pondered our inner demons we were fighting against. For Beth, it was her moral dilemma about her reaction to Zack's death, while Mika and Molly were torn up about how Lizzie and Luke were both sick, possibly dying. Mine, however, was a fear that was probably running rampant throughout the prison: the issue of our safety.

The silence was interrupted by the sound of distant footsteps, growing louder and closer until Carl appeared in the doorway, gun in its holster as he leaned against the door frame almost nervously. I jerked my head in the opposite direction, and he made his way over and sat down next to me, grabbing my free hand in one of his as he leaned over and kissed my forehead.

Eventually, Judith began to cry, shattering the peaceful trance-like state we had lapsed into. Beth, still cradling the baby, stood up and began rocking her as she paced about the room. "Can somebody make Judith some milk?" she asked, gesturing with her head to the pink bag near the spot she had been sitting. I was about to move to get it when Mika crawled over and opened the bag, pulling out powdered milk, a bottle of water, and a sippy-cup. Carl watched carefully as she worked, adding water and powder, before screwing on the lid and shaking it up. After that was done, she got up and brought it to Beth, who thanked her and gave it to Judith. When Mika went to sit back down, Carl gave a small grin, which she returned.

That night, as I was unrolling one of the sleeping bags Rick had left for us, Carl dragged the bag over and pulled it open, tossing me my only pair of pajama pants he had thankfully remembered to pack. I slipped out of the room and into one a couple doors down, where I quickly changed pants before walking back. When I got there, Carl was unrolling a second sleeping bag next to mine. I smiled at him as I got down on my hand and knees as I crawled in, trying to remember the last time I had slept in one of these.

"It's been a long time, old friend," I murmured to myself, chuckling slightly as I patted the green material that compromised most of the bag. Carl gave me a quizzical glance, and I stuck my tongue out at him, a gesture to which he laughed and rolled his eyes at. I folded my arms as I gave him a mock glare, scooting down so my whole body was inside the sleeping bag, including my head. He laughed, and I reached out to smack him, a move that was completely useless when I was tucked inside the bag. It only gained more laughter from him, and I popped my head out from the opening.

"We should probably calm down before Mika and Molly get back," I said once he had quieted some. "It would not be the greatest thing for them to see us carrying on." Carl nodded, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

"I love you," he murmured.

"I love you, too," I whispered back, before closing my eyes as sleep overcame me quickly and quietly.

_The prison was eerily quiet, the only sound being my heavy breathing and constant slap of sneakers against the dank prison floor as I ran. Only a small amount of light filtered in through the window, but it was enough for me to see as I raced down the empty hallways, screaming Carl's name at the top of my lungs._

_"Carl," I cried, my voice now worn out and hoarse. "Carl!"_

_My words were not met with spoken words, instead I began to hear faint gunshots that grew louder I grew closer to the door at the end of the hall. I screeched to halt, my feet skidding ever-so-slightly as I stopped just in front of the door. I was moving again almost immediately, pushing the door open and gaping at what I saw._

_In front of me was Carl, holding up a pistol as he shot at the incoming mass of walkers coming towards him. I called his name, and he only glanced at me for a second before his attention went back to hoard ahead of him. I reached for the gun I kept tucked in my pants, only to find it wasn't there, sending a wave of panic crashing over me. I watched helpless as they began to overtake him, frozen and rooted to the spot. He kept shooting, firing off round after round, until his gun made the fatal clicking sound, signaling his gun was empty. I could see the fear in his eyes as began slowly backing up towards the wall, surrounded on all sides by living corpses, any possible exit blocked._

_"Carl!" I shouted, my voice barely audible over the groaning. He looked at me, his gaze tortured as he opened his mouth to say something, but he was interupted as a walker lunged at him, biting into his throat. He couldn't even scream as he crumpled downwards and out of my sight as the zombies all converged on him, pleased with the fresh meat._

_And all I could do was scream_

* * *

**Yay! More nightmares!**

**Anyway, thanks for reading my story. I actually did a lot of research on powdered milk for this chapter. Did you know that in some movies, they use powdered milk as a prop for drugs, because it looks like certain drugs and it's safe to inhale?**

**...the more that you know.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I AM AN EVIL PERSON WHO IS SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO UPDATE. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.**

* * *

When my eyes flickered open the next morning, I found myself facing Carl's sleeping bag, wrinkled and empty. Despite it being an obvious sign that last night was nothing but a dream, I still felt a small wave of panic wash over me at his absence, until a voice snapped me from my thoughts.

"Hey."

I looked up to find Carl sitting cross-legged by my head, his shaggy brown locks falling into his eyes as he leaned over me. Smiling, I removed myself from the orange bag I'd been curled up in, tucking my feet into my side and sitting up as he scooted back to make room.

"Morning," I murmured, sleep still evident in my voice. "Why are you up so early?"

"Happy anniversary," he replied, reaching behind him and pulling something from his back pocket. He pressed a small box into my hand, rounded and covered with a red fur-like material. I could practically hear my breath hitch as I stared it, my mind racing as I stared at the suddenly heavy box in my chest. Sure, it was early, and we were young, but there was only one thing that popped into my mind when I thought about small velvet boxes, and I was pretty sure I wasn't ready for that.

But at the same time, the thought itself wasn't so bad; it was actually kind of nice. Still, I found it ridiculous to be jumping to conclusions so early, so I took a deep breath and opened the box, blinking at the silver metal inside.

A locket.

I sighed, turning to Carl and flashing him a bright smile. "I love it." Swinging my head side to side to see if anyone else had woken up yet, I threw myself into his arms, trying to stifle my giggles as we went tumbling to the ground. His laughter rang out, quiet enough not to be heard, but somehow loud enough that it seemed to fill up every inch of silence in the building.

That was the last moment of bliss burned into my mind before chaos struck.

"Have you seen my dad?" Beth said, somewhat absent-mindedly. By now, everyone had woken up, and we were all sitting around in a circle, eating the food that Rick had dropped off. Apparently, the quarantine had been lifted, and they were going to be moving us back into the prison tomorrow, taking an extra day just to be safe.

"He went out somewhere," Carl replied, his arm wrapped firmly around my shoulder, while my head rested on his. "He'll be back eventually."

"I know," she mumbled, seeming slightly more worried than she was before. "He said he'd be back by now, though."

I opened my mouth to respond when a loud explosion rang out, shaking the floor beneath us and causing me to cringe as the sound echoed in my ears. In a flash, Carl was on his feet and reaching for his gun as he raced towards the exit. I trailed close behind, wishing I'd chosen to keep some weapon on me besides a knife. Nevertheless, I pulled it from its sheath as I followed him out into the courtyard, jumping to the side to avoid being clipped by the door. Before it could close all the way, Beth emerged, racing after me while Mika and Molly darted off towards the main building, the former carrying Judith in her arms.

Somewhere along the way, Maggie ran up behind me, and the four of us headed for the main gate, running into both Sasha and Bob. Heavy footsteps echoed behind us as Rick, Tyreese, and Daryl darted over to join us.

"Get back!" Rick shouted, his voice sounding distant despite the fact that I was certain he was only a handful of feet away from me. Nobody paid much attention, however; we were all too busy gaping at the scene lying at the bottom of the hill.

A huge tank was stopped just meters away from the prison fences, three cars lined up on either side. Many of them had doors open and people climbing out, all of them holding a gun of some sort. Standing atop the military vehicle was a figure, hands on their hips and their feet spread apart. Even from the distance, there was no mistaking the man's identity.

There, with a smirk on his lips and eye patch slapped on his face, was the Governor.

"Rick," he called. "Come down here. We need to talk."

* * *

**Well, that was a short chapter. Despite it being quite a cliché way to end a chapter, I couldn't bring myself to add anything else after that last sentence. I promise, there will be another chapter soon, so be prepared.**

**And now, it's time for our favorite long-standing tradition that I totally didn't start last chapter. Get ready for the Milk Fact of the chapter!**

**Did you know that Reindeer milk has more fat than Cow milk?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Now, it's time for chapter eight! I'd like to warn you guys, take a good look at Carl now.**

* * *

I blinked, nearly dropping my knife in shock. Beside me, Carl's face mirrored my expression of disbelief, but we both stood there silently, eyes meeting for a moment before flicking back to the scene unfolding.

"It's not up to me!" Rick shouted back. "There's a council now, they run this place."

"Hershel on the council?"

The Governor waved at one of the people standing by him, and they moved towards the nearest car, ducking behind the car. They reappeared moments later, this time with a hand wrapped firmly around the bicep of a man.

Hershel.

They pulled him along, forcing him to his knees in front of the tank and taking a defensive position at his side. Somewhere beside me, Maggie gasped, and the sound of Beth's heavy breathing became audible.

"What about Michonne? She on the council, too?"

The aforementioned woman was retrieved and pushed next to Hershel, anger flashing in her eyes. Carl's forearm brushed against mine as he stiffened at the sight.

"I don't make decisions anymore!" Rick yelled, still attempting to avoid conflict.

"You're making the decisions today, Rick," he replied. "Come down here and let's… let's have that talk."

I could practically hear my heartbeat pick up as Rick looked at Daryl, giving a small nod before turning and stepping over to Carl, placing a hand on his neck.

"Hey," he whispered. "We can do this. All right?"

Carl nodded, and Rick stepped to the gate, opening it with Daryl's help. He then began the long trek down the gravel path, heading down to the bottom of the hill.

"We can't take 'em all on," Daryl said. I tore my attention from Rick to look at him as he spoke. "We'll go through the admin building, through the woods like we planned. We ain't got the numbers no more. When's the last time someone checked the stash on the bus?"

"Day before we hit the Big Spot," Sasha murmured back. "We were running low on rations then. We're lower now."

"Yeah, we'll manage," Daryl sighed, his face dropping slightly. "Things go south, everyone heads for that bus. Let everybody know."

"What if everybody doesn't know when things go bad?" Tyreese interjected. "How long do we wait?"

"As long as we can," Daryl said.

When he finished, I stared after him for a moment, before turning back to Rick. By now, he had reached the end of the road and, from what I could tell, had begun to try and reason with the Governor. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I watched as both made gestures, many of them directed at the tank.

A small screeching noise broke through the silence at the top of the hill, and I turned to see Daryl, pulling a cart over and beginning to fan out weapons, attempting to look discreet. I quickly turned away, ignoring him until I felt something rub against my hand. I grabbed it, pulling it around to the front, wrapping one hand around the cool metal and pushing the end through one of the holes in the fence. Beside me, Carl did the same, one eye squeezed shut as he peered down the barrel.

"We got to do something," he said, his tone surprisingly even despite the circumstances.

"Your dad's got it," Daryl replied.

"They're _talking_," Carl protested. "We could kill the Governor _right now_."

"From fifty yards?" the older man said, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"I'm a good shot!" Carl snapped back, still focused of the end of his gun. "I could end this right now."

"Yeah, or you could start something else," Daryl muttered. "You gotta trust him."

They lapsed back into silence, and my gaze shifted back to edge of the prison territory. That was when the Governor jumped from the side of the tank, pausing to retrieve something from one of his soldiers. It was a sword, one that I recognized as belonging to Michonne. He pushed away the girl at Hershel's side, taking her place and holding the sword to the older man's throat. Maggie and Beth both jumped forward, the younger sister fighting back sobs as she watched the scene. Beside me, Carl and Daryl both grew tense, and I could feel my own muscles do the same, my fingers curling towards the trigger.

Rick began to gesture wildly, moving side to side as his hand darted between us and the gates. I could feel the air thickening as we all watched, unable to do anything but observe.

Then, in one fluid motion, the Governor pulled his arms, back, raising the sword and bringing it down, sending the blade halfway through Hershel's neck.

And all hell broke loose.

* * *

**And another cliché chapter ending. I'd like to warn you guys now, things only go downhill from here. Don't get me wrong, it's gonna be good, but it's gonna be emotional.**

**And now, our favorite mood lightener, it's time for the Milk Fact of the chapter!**

**In 2011, buffalo provided about 11% of all milk worldwide.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Woo! We're back!**

* * *

Gunfire rang in my ears as I hissed in anger, squeezing the trigger and causing a spray of bullets. They spread across the space in which I was aiming, one catching a man in the shoulder and sending him down, another burying itself in a woman's head. I could hear both Beth and Maggie crying in the distance, faint over the sounds of the firefight.

The Governor shouted something, and the tank began moving forwards, taking down the first two layers of fences. The shoulders all ducked behind the machine as my clip ran dry. So I took off to find adequate cover, dropping the empty gun in weapons basket and pulling out one of the pistols and some spare ammo as I did so. Tucking an extra magazine in each of my front pockets, I was glad that I wore jeans we found in the boys department, rather than the "girly" pairs that had little or no space to store things.

I was ducking behind a nearby building, waiting for them to get closer so I could get a more accurate shot when someone grabbed my arm. I yelped, terrified that they had been able to sneak in somehow, before I discovered it was only Carl. Without speaking, his hand wrapped around my wrist, and he was off, practically dragging me behind him. It's only when we reach the bus that I tugged my hand free, realizing he's trying to lead me onto the bus.

"What are you doing?" I ask my voice both curious and wild.

"You're getting on that bus," he said, attempting to make it sound like it wasn't up for questioning. I, however had, other plans.

"Not unless you get on with me," I protested, practically begging God that he would relent for once.

"You know I can't do that," he said. If the circumstances we any different, he probably would've stopped and sighed, running his hand through his hair. But now, we were both standing there, hearts racing and the adrenaline of the battle making us both tense and anxious. Still, that did nothing to stop the pleading in his eyes. "I've got to get my dad and Judith first. But please, _please, _just get on that bus."

"No!" I cried. "Absolutely not!"

Carl froze, standing there as he studied my expression, before relenting. "Alright. You go find Judith, I'll get my dad, and we'll all get on the bus, okay?"

I found myself incapable of speech, so I merely nodded in response. He shot me a bitter smile, before he squeezed my hands and took off through the courtyard. I darted off in the other direction, heading the way Mika and Molly had earlier, when they we carrying the baby. I hoped, _prayed, _that they were still with her now, tucked away in a safer spot. My heart sank when I saw them rushing past me, both carrying guns rather than Judith.

"Mika," I shouted, grabbing her arm as she tried to rush past me. "Where's Judith?"

"She's inside!" Mika cried, "We left her with Luke and Molly in Cell Block D."

The girl darted after her sister the second I released my grip on her arm, and I watched her go for only a second before turning and heading for the nearest entrance into the prison. I ended up running right behind Maggie, who turned around to glance at me when she heard my footsteps behind hers, instinctively reaching for her gun. I raised my hands in a gesture of submission, nearly freezing where I stood, and she nodded, turning back around just in time to push the door open and run through. I followed behind her, jumping through the space in between to door and the frame. I barely managed to squeeze through, and I heard the door slam shut behind me.

I was almost a little sad to see Maggie go left, when I knew that I had to turn left. I didn't hesitate, but I also realized that this may be the last time I saw her for a long time, if ever again. I tried not to dwell on it as I pushed on toward Cell block D. I finally made it to the door marked with a large black D, slowing down and attempting to catch my breath as I opened the door. However, the second I entered, I stopped cold at hearing the conversation.

"What are you saying, Luke?" Molly yelled. She was standing roughly fifteen feet away, holding Judith in her arms and shouting at Luke, whose back was to me.

"I'm saying she's a liability!" he fired back.

* * *

**Oh naw boy, you did not just go there!**

**While we all silently boil over our anger, let's enjoy yet **_**another **_**TASTY milk fact!**

**While it is quite hard due to both the small size of the teats and the aggression and willingness of the animal to fight back, it is actually possible to milk a pig.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Wee! We're back! ****Guess who isn't.**

"I'm saying she's a liability!" Luke shouted.

I could feel my blood begin to boil, and I clenched my fists in anger. I knew he was just repeating something he'd overheard one of the adults saying, but they didn't soothe me in any way. Instead, it only seemed to make me feel _angrier._

"Then what does that make you?" I asked. Luke whirled around, his eyes going wide in surprise.

"Sophia!" he cried, suddenly looking small and afraid.

"What does that make you?" I repeated, taking a couple steps forward.

"Huh?" he squeaked out, practically trembling. I didn't blame him; after all, I had roughly six years on him, a gun, _and _a knife.

"I said, _what does that make you?" _ I repeated, beginning to lose my already thin layer of patience.

"I-I don't understand what you mean," he stuttered.

"I assume you mean Judith is a liability because she's a baby, and therefore can't help out. But you're a young boy; you can't kill walkers, you can't find food and supplies. You probably couldn't even defend yourself, let alone a group. So then tell me, why aren't _you _a liability?"

Luke seemed - at a loss for words, but I just stalked past him, walking over to Molly and lifting Judith from her arms and leaving her with the diaper bag. She still looked frightened, so I gave her a small smile, before turning around and heading for the door. I stopped when I realized Luke wasn't following, so I glanced back over my shoulder to see him standing there, still looking shell-shocked.

"Well," I said. "Aren't you coming?" He squeaked out an answer and scurried over to where were waiting. I paused for another moment, reconsidering, before telling Molly to give Luke the bag and handing her Judith, allowing me to pull out my gun. They seemed frightened at the possibility of us encountering someone we'd have to shoot, but I pushed the door open and walked out anyway.

I led tem through the prison and out into the courtyard. By now, all the gunfire stopped, and I noticed the bus driving away in the distance. I swore under my breath, and looked around. I couldn't see a single person, only a hoard of walkers.

"Alright guys," I whispered, turning around to face them. "We're going to have to be really quiet, okay?" They nodded, and I led them around the prison office building, trying to avoid most of the walkers. One was lurking behind the building, but I flipped the gun in my hand, lunging forward and bashing it into is skull until I managed to hit brain. It fell to the ground, and we kept moving. We managed to slip through the whole in fence, after I cut the red ropes apart with the knife. Molly and Luke had some trouble getting through with Judith and the bag, but we managed to escape the gate largely unharmed.

The field itself was a different problem all together. Out here, there was no cover whatsoever, and I knew we'd have to really on speed and bullets to get out of this one. Suddenly, I was glad I had grabbed two extra magazines. "Go, go, go!" I shouted, waving the kids in front of me and gesturing for them to run. If there were any walkers not watching before, they certainly were now.

Even with the surplus of bullets, we still didn't have too many, considering I didn't know how long we'd be out on our own. I still had two full clips in my pockets, but I had no idea how empty the one in my gun was at that moment. By now, we had definitely grabbed the attention of a decent number of walkers, which were now ambling towards us.

I fired off a shot at one making its way toward Molly, sending the corpse falling to the ground. Two more bullets found their way into two of the geeks near Luke, and another into one growing closer to me. By now, Molly was almost to the brush at the edge of the forest, with Luke a couple of feet behind her, while I lagged a few yards behind. I shot down three shuffling towards the kids and was about to put down another one standing in my way when my gun made a clicking sound instead.

"Shit," I hissed under my breath. My free hand fumbled at my side as I tried to pull my knife from its sheath. By now both Luke and Molly had cleared the field, and were standing at the edge of the forest, watching me as they eyed the walkers around them in worry, slowing backing away in fear. The sight of them panicking seemed to steady my hand and I managed to pull the blade free, plunging it into the geek's head just in time, barely slowing down as I ran.

"Let's go," I said once I had reached the kids. As we jogged away from the prison, I took the opportunity to load a fresh magazine into the gun. "Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah," Molly murmured, Luke nodding beside her. Judith gave a small whimper from the girl's arms, and I tried to give the toddler a reassuring smile. Even though she had no clue what was going on, infants were still able to pick up on emotions around her, and the last thing we needed was a crying baby. In fact, I was surprised that she hadn't started to cry yet, considering what had happened in the past ten minutes.

It was then that the gravity of the situation fully hit me, and I nearly froze in shock. The prison. The attack. _Carl._

By the time it had occurred to me to look back, all I could see was the smoke rising over the trees.

**I hope you took a good look at Carl while you had the chance, folks. But, hey, at least you didn't see him die! As a peace offering, have a milk fact.**

**Yak's milk is pink.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Remember, just because you haven't seen Carl die yet, doesn't mean you won't. Or that we aren't going to find his body. *terrible fake cough* I mean, what?**

* * *

"Where are we going?" Molly asked. It was the first words any of us had said since leaving the ruins that was prison, other than Judith's nonsense gurgling and the occasional reassuring whisper whenever she'd begun to whimper. It took me a moment to realize she was talking to me, and another two to respond.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "One thing's for sure, though: we can't stop yet. I don't want to risk running into any of those psychopaths that attacked us."

"Okay," she murmured, shifting Judith in her arms with a little grunt. I was reminded of how heavy Judith could be, and although I was reluctant to hand off my weapon, someone else was going have to carry her for a while before Molly dropped her. I briefly entertained the notion of giving her to Luke, but the thought that he might ditch her to run made me wince.

"Do either of you know how to use a knife or a gun?" I asked.

They both shook their heads, and I couldn't help but sigh. Apparently, that wasn't the best idea, because Luke mumbled an apology under his breath, and Molly took on an expression similar to that of a kicked puppy. It made me feel somewhat guilty, and I had to remind myself that they were only kids who'd just had the only safe place they knew ripped away from them.

"It's not your fault," I assured them. "Here, give me Judith."

Molly gave me a curious look, but handed her over with no complaint, shoulders sagging in relief. I slipped my gun into the waistband of my jeans, and situated Judith on the opposite hip, leaving my right hand free to grab my gun if need be. As inconvenient as it might be, I was sure I could shoot a pistol with one hand, my only concern being that it might hurt Judith's ears. Besides, having Judith in my arms was oddly comforting, as if I were holding onto a little piece of Carl when I had her in my arms.

The three of us fell back into silence as we trudged on through the trees. We'd given up on jogging a while ago, considering the distance we'd already put between ourselves and the prison. Still, I didn't want to take chances, and resolved on walking for a little while more before settling in to sleep.

By now the sun was just beginning to set, a thin layer of orange settling along the horizon. Seeing it made me nervous, a reminder that night was nearing, and I had no idea how I was going to set up camp with two children and a toddler. There was no way that I could get all of them tied up in a tree, especially Judith. Someone would have to hold her, and if they were to accidently drop her, it would mean certain death for her.

It was then that I remembered the nine months I'd spent out here on my own. I'd been all over this forest before I'd stumbled onto the prison. I knew this area. It wasn't hard to get a rough idea of where we were; after all, we'd been walking in a pretty straight line since leaving the prison.

"This way," I said as I turned to the right, so sudden that the kids jumped a bit. However, they followed me without question or argument. Our walk was about as talkative as it had been before, none of us quite willing to be the first to speak.

I nearly smiled when I saw it, a mix of satisfaction, relief and self-pride fluttering in my chest. There, barely visible through the layers of trees was a house. As we got closer, we were able to make out another, and another. It was a neighborhood, one of the smaller ones that I'd only passed through in my time out here. Houses lined either side of the street, and at that moment I was somehow able to forget the horrors of the day, watching the prison go up in flames, being separated from the only bit of family I had left.

I stretched my free arm out wide, gesturing around me at the deserted neighborhood as if I were an arrogant artist, showing off my pieces at a gallery.

"Well, kiddies," I said. "Take your pick."

* * *

**Hoorah! I know this chapter is short, considerably shorter than I wanted, but it is here. We're officially in what I call Part B, because fun fact: Sophia's Suffering _[one called Sophia's Sickness, and another called Sophia's Search] _was originally going to be two books, but I wasn't sure they were going to be long enough by themselves, so I combined them. _[Plus, I did a _massive_ plot makeover and neither of the names fit as well as they did beforehand anyway.]_**

**And now for the milk fact!**

**If you watched Phineas and Ferb when you were younger, like I have, you may remember them referring to Perry as a monotreme. Monotremes are the name for animals such as the Duck Billed Platypus that lay eggs but suckle their young on milk. Yes, I still count this as a milk fact.**


	12. Chapter 12

The three of us end up forcing our way into one of the smaller houses on the street. Well, by us I mean me, Molly holding Judith in her arms and Luke carrying her diaper bag.

It's quiet when we step in, so I urge the kids to be quiet and send them into the living room to wait while I check through the house. I consider giving them my gun just in case, but that's before I remember I no longer have my knife on me; I'd left it at the prison.

I head first for the kitchen, and although I don't find any walkers, I do find something else: food. There's food in the cupboards, boxes of cereal and cans of soup. There's food in the fridge, too, but the electricity has long since run out and everything in there is spoiled to the point of smell, so much so that I can smell it without even having to open the fridge.

The kitchen cleared, I head into the dining room. Papers are spread over the table, but it doesn't appear messy. A small pile of mail is pushed into one of the chairs, mostly magazines and envelopes with the addresses typed. The whole house so far looks as if it's been untouched since the apocalypse. This entire neighborhood seemed to be in good state, at least from the outside, and I wondered how it managed to go so I noticed by anyone for so long.

The dining room was clear, as was the small bathroom beside it. Making my way up the stairs, my finger left a trail in the layer of dust that had settled over the railing.

There wasn't a single walker in any of the bedrooms either. The only thing I did find the emaciated remains of a cat lying on one the beds, and I gave it a small glance before clearing that room, less than eager to look at the corpse.

The entire house is free of walkers, and I grab the bedding from the master bedroom before I make my way back to the living room with Luke and Molly, who were already pulling together the blankets and pillows scattered across the room. Judith lies on the couch, curled in a quilt like its a nest. All three of them look up when I enter the room, and I do my best to look reassuring.

"Anybody hungry?" I ask. I get two quick nods and a gurgle from Judy, which I suspect is mostly coincidence. "Well, there's plenty of food in the kitchen, so I'll go get some if one of you could prep something for Judith."

"Okay," Luke says, but it's Molly who reaches for the diaper bag first, pulling out the box of formula and a half full can of baby food. I give the two of them a nod before I step into the kitchen and start rifling through the cabinets.

After a moment, I pull out a couple of things of canned spaghetti before searching around for some spoons. They're easy enough to find, tucked away in one of the drawers by the sink. Grabbing everything, I head back into the living room to find Molly spoon feeding Judith while Luke stands behind her, fiddling with his hands and watching, looking quite unsure of himself. He looks up when I enter and I throw him a small grin that he does his best to return.

"I can take over for you, so you can eat," I say to Molly, but she shakes her head.

"I'm okay," she replies, crinkling her now at Judith as she coaxes the spoon into the infants mouth.

Luke and I both settle next to her at the coffee table, him watching as I pop the top on one of the cans before sticking a spoon inside and sliding it over to him. He mumbles a thank you under his breath as he shovels a spoonful into his mouth, and I have to hold back a chuckle at the expression that crosses his face.

He swallows with a sigh, and when he looks over at me, he grins. I grin back, and when Molly turns around to look at us, she smiles too.

Judith giggles, and even though it feels like I lost everything today, even though we no longer have a home or safety or even a decent supply of ammo, I actually feel kind of okay.

I look between the three of them, Luke with a piece of spaghetti on his chin and the girls sitting together with their eyes actually light, and I take a deep breath in.

"We're gonna be okay," I tell them, and I mean it.

* * *

This chapter is short and I'm bothered by it, but I'm back.

the guest who asked about glenn and maggie: i can say the answer to your question is no, but i can't tell you why

also! i am very sorry for my long leave of absence, but i will do my best to finish this story, and i have some more exciting news. i am working on two new walking dead stories! one is a band au, wherein Carl, Sophia, Eliza and Louis start a band, and another is a conversion camp au, where Carl, Sophia and Eliza get busted and in trouble for being gay, and have to fight the system to retain who they are! i'm very excited about them both!


	13. Chapter 13

I can hear a cricket or two chirping in the distance as I sit in the living room, perched on one end of the couch and watching over the rest of the room. Molly's lying on the other end of the couch with recliner kicked out and her head tucked against the armrest, Judith on her side in between us. Across the coffee table, Luke is curled up in an armchair, comforter draped over his body.

I'm scared.

We're on our own out here. We've got no help, none whatsoever, and I have three kids that are relying on me. These are high stakes. Last time I was out without a group, it was just me, and sometimes I wondered how I even managed to survive that.

I have to take care of these kids. There's no doubt about it; they'll die without me, and there's no way I could let that happen. There's no way I could be okay with that happening.

It takes me what feels like forever to fall asleep. When I finally do, it's short, restless, and haunted.

_There's bodies littered across the courtyard, blood on the ground and it's just… carnage. Limbs and blood and guts and bodies and I feel like I'm going to throw up._

_As if I can't stop myself, my feet start moving forward, and I see faces. Faces on the bodies, faces I've people I've known. Maggie and Glenn, an arm's reach between them as if reaching for each other. Beth lying on her side, blonde hair wild. Luke twisted up beside Molly, and Judith sprawled between them._

_Daryl, his crossbow snapped beside him and his arm missing somewhere in the courtyard._

_And Carl, lying face up with vacant blue eyes focused on the sky and his face just blank. His cowboy hat is sitting beside his head, blood splattered on the rim._

_A choked sob rises in my throat as I take a step forward, but once I move towards him, he lurches up. And even though I know he's dead (so, so dead), I can't help but reach for him._

_And when his teeth clamp around my fingers, it almost feels like a relief._

I shoot up with sweat on my forehead and an ache in my chest. It takes me a second to come back to myself, and I start going over my last dream in my head. It makes sense, of course. With everything that happened yesterday, it's not a surprising dream.

I didn't scream this time. That's good.

When I look over, Molly and Judith are thankfully both still asleep, but Luke sits up straight in the chair staring at me. "are you okay?" he asks after a moment.

I take a breath before I nod. "I'm fine," I assure him. "It's just nightmares. I get them sometimes."

"Me too," he admits. We sit in silence before he looks over at me again. "Do you want to talk about them?"

"No," I answer. "Do you?"

"No."

He pulls his knee up onto the chair and gives me a small shrug. I consider faking a smile but I just get to my feet instead, padding into the kitchen and moving straight for the pantry. There's plenty of food still in there, and while most if it's probably stale, it's probably still edible. A couple of boxes of cereal are on the highest shelf, and I have to lift up on my tip toes to grab what I'm going for: a box of Cheerio's near the back.

There's other food that I make a point to grab: things like canned soup and beef jerky. Stuff that'll last. There's a duffel in one of the bedrooms upstairs I saw, I can use that to put food in.

If I'm honest, I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't know what to do. Should we stay here and wait for people to find us, or should we start looking for them? Or should I just bail entirely? Take the kids and go, try and find somewhere new and give up on the group entirely?

I know right away the last one isn't an option. We can't be alone. I'm not equipped to care for two kids and an infant. I can't defend them from walkers with the little ammunition I have, and there's no way I can protect them from other people.

As I search around for bowls, I try to solidify a plan. I have to find our people, at least some of them. Rick or Daryl or Maggie or hell, even Beth would be welcome right now.

Or Carl.

But Carl cannot be my priority right now. I have three lives in my hands. If they die, it's on me, and I am not losing anyone else. So I have to start looking for others.

But what about Luke and Molly? Judith? Toting them around while I search? There's no way I can leave them alone. They have next to no knowledge on surivial or combat; if anything happens, they're as good as dead unless they can run. And how would I even get them around? I've never driven a car, and even though it doesn't seem hard, I'll have no idea what I'm doing.

I'm still trying to work out what to do when I walk back into the living room, holding bowls and spoons and the box of cereal. Luke is still the only other one up, so I pour him a bowl and hand him a spoon. When he thanks me, I do my best to shoot him a smile and pour my own cereal.

We eat in a relative silence until Judith starts to stir. She twists around in the blankets for a couple of moments before she opens her eyes. I grin, and when the look on her face makes it clear she wants to be held, I lean over and lift her into the air before resting her in my lap. She squirms a couple of times before she settles down, but she keeps smacking her hand against my knee until I laugh.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, and she lights up.

Luke grins when she turns to him, and slides the diaper bag within my reach when I ask. Rummaging through with one arm, I pull out the formula, along with a bottle filled with water and one to feed her with.

"Can you prepare her bottle?" I ask.

"I don't know how," he replies.

"It's not hard, don't worry," I say. "I'll tell you."

He looks hesitant but agrees anyway, uncapping the water and pouring into the empty bottle until I tell him to stop. Next I tell him how many scoops to pour in, and then he screws the lid on and shakes it up until it all looks blended. He hands it over to me and I offer it to Judith, who starts to drink with some assistance.

As I listen to her gulp down milk while Luke munches on his cereal, I know what my plan is.

_Save these kids._

* * *

i know most of y'all hate luke but i love him so much and soon i think you will too. #redemptionarc


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